Colours
by sophiesayshi
Summary: Just a quick one-shot set somwhere in the beginning of the Half-Blood Prince where Tonks reveals her true feelings to Lupin. But of course, he doesn't allow it, being what he is. She pleads, he apologizes... but in the end, they're still only in love.


**Colours**

"Come in."

The man was sitting in the worn chair, his shoulders slumped, one hand loosely holding his dark wand. As she came in, her hair a pale green – reflecting her emotions, for, as she was feeling so nervous, this prompted feelings of sickness – he straightened slightly, his tired eyes fixed on her face. He knew at once something was wrong.

"Nymphadora," he began anxiously. "What's wrong? You seem… upset."

"How many times have I asked you not to call me that?" she replied, her voice slightly shaky. "It's _Tonks, _Remus."

"Sorry," he said. "Tonks… has something happened?"

"No, Remus. I just… I need to tell you something."

He gestured towards another seat. "Would you sit down?"

She seemed tempted for a moment, then hesitated and shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

"Well?" he asked. "What's happened? It's not… something hasn't happened to Harry, has it? What with all the protection the Order's placed around him – but then, something _could _have gotten through, I don't doubt it –"

"Remus."

Her voice was quiet, demanding.

"Yes, Tonks?"

"Nothing has happened," she said. "Harry's fine, I'm sure. Perhaps a little frustrated, but fine, nevertheless."

He looked at her, confused. "Then what's wrong?"

"I have something to tell you, Remus."

"So you've said."

For a moment, her hair flashed a bright, vivid red, and she glared at him, then she relaxed – or seemed to, at least. She closed the gap between them in five short strides. Remus looked up at her from the position in his seat, his grey eyes searching.

"Tonks?" he said softly. "I think I know what this is about."

"Remus, you _do?" _she asked. Suddenly she was suspicious. "Did – did Molly tell you?"

"_Molly?" _he echoed, incredulous. "Molly _Weasley?"_

"Yes, who else?" she said. "She's the only one who knows."

"Wait – what are you talking about?" he asked.

"What are _you _talking about?" she echoed.

"It's Sirius, isn't it?" he said, at the same time as she whispered, "Remus…I'm in –"

Her gaze snapped up. "Sirius?"

He frowned. "You're in _what?"_

"What… what did you mean about Sirius, Remus?" she asked.

He looked at her gently. "Tonks, I know you think that his death was your fault. But no, it wasn't. It's just… just survivor's guilt. His death was tragic for all of us, but it was no one's fault… apart from that Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Is _that _what you think I was here to talk to you about?" she asked, looking slightly shaken. "Remus, I did for a while think that, and I _do _mourn Sirius, but I'm not here to talk about him."

"Then what _are _you here to talk about?" he asked. "And… what are you in?"

"_Pardon?"_

"You just said to me, 'Remus, I'm in –'" he said. "What are you in?"

She paled, and her hair dropped a shade more grey. She murmured something incomprehensible, and Lupin frowned.

"Sorry, Tonks… I didn't quite catch that."

She glowered at him, and whispered something again.

"Tonks?" he pleaded. "A little louder, please?"

And now, looking positively terrified, Tonks all but yelled, "I'm in love with you, Remus!"

Her hair darkened to a shade of deep crimson, but it was nowhere close to the scarlet blush on her cheeks. Lupin dropped his wand. His jaw fell open. He stared at her.

"No…" he muttered eventually. "No, Tonks. Don't say that."

Her eyes glistened with humiliation, rejection. "What… do… you… mean?"

"You can't say that, Tonks," he said, looking at her with a mixture of pity… and was that regret? "You should love someone else."

"I can't _choose _who I love!" she shouted at him. "But for some reason, it turned out to be _you!"_

"But you cannot…"

"Why, Remus?" she whispered. "Is it because… your feelings…?"

"No," he answered furiously. "My feelings… I like you too, Tonks."

"You _like _me?" she hissed.

"If you must know," he practically growled. "Our feelings seem to be… mutual."

"Then why are you so unhappy?"

"Because my feelings don't matter," he snapped.

"Of course they do!" she said. "I love you, Remus, and if – if you love me –"

"I _do _love you, but –"

"– We should get together," she finished.

"Get together…?" he echoed, looking slightly horrified. "No, Tonks."

She was tearful. _"Why?"_

"Because of a hundred different reasons," he said, but although his voice seemed to be softer, there was still an edge of firmness about it. "I'm too old for you…"

"Thirteen years means _nothing _to me," she half snarled back.

"Too poor," he said.

"Money doesn't matter."

"But most of all, I'm a _werewolf, _Tonks."

His blunt use of the word made her flinch. "I don't care."

"You don't care?" he bellowed. "You don't _care? _I'm a dangerous _monster, _Tonks! A _monster! _I could… If you were at the wrong place at the wrong time… I could never live with myself, Tonks. You must understand. I love you, which is _why _I can never be with you."

She put one hand on his cheek, but he pulled away. "You would never hurt me, Remus."

"I'm a _monster!"_

"No," she whispered. "No, you're not."

"It's too dangerous!"

"No," she protested again.

"You deserve somebody else!" he roared.

"I want _you."_

"Someone young and handsome and rich and… not infected."

"Only _you," _she said.

"We can't."

"We _can."_

"No," he said, still struggling away from her. "One wrong move on my part, and you would be… would be…"

"But Remus –"

"_Much _too dangerous."

"Please."

"It's sick."

"I'll only ever love you."

"Wrong."

"No," she said again.

"This would never, ever work, Tonks," he said. "I'm sorry."

"But I _love _you," she pleaded.

He suddenly stopped struggling, and stared at her. "Say it again."

"I… I love you," she stammered.

"Like you mean it," he whispered.

She traced his jaw line, felt his eyes on her own face, and summoned all the feeling into those three words. "I love you."

A look of bliss flitted across his face for a moment, then he stood up, cocked her face up with his thumb – burning to the touch, she thought – and pressed his lips harshly to hers. She instantly felt herself melt into him.

But it was over as soon as it had started.

He pulled away, stepped around her to the door.

"Thank you," he murmured.

And then he left her, her hair flashing all different colours as her emotions swirled, twisted, constricted. She didn't know what to think, and she collapsed down onto the chair he had just left, clamping her eyes shut, trying to remember that feeling – that overwhelming feeling – she had experienced when he had leant down and kissed her.

Her hair went pink.

Then the feeling was gone, and that colour was gone, fading back to a hundred different colours, all that were nowhere near as beautiful as that stunning, ever-wonderful pink; the colour of her love.


End file.
